


The moons memory

by Indigoblau



Series: Fragments of a Caleidoscope [11]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Memories, The Moon - Freeform, it is kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:49:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21680467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigoblau/pseuds/Indigoblau
Summary: Humans are quick to forget, but the moon remembers forever.
Series: Fragments of a Caleidoscope [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/825567
Kudos: 5





	The moons memory

**Author's Note:**

> So.. this was an assignment I had to do for class and because I'm lost in Haikyuu forever it turned into a fic.  
> Whoops.

It started with an email.  
Oikawa had just wanted to check his mails before he went to bed. Already in his sleep gear and his toothbrush in his mouth he scrolled through the advertising and spam that had accumulated during the week. He had been abroad professionally, so he hadn't had the opportunity to take care of it before.  
As a coach of an internationally successful volleyball team, he often travelled to other countries and because he did his job with passion, there was often no time for anything not directly related to it for weeks on end.  
Most of Oikawa's correspondence went through his team's official mailbox anyway, as his friends knew that they could wait longer for an answer via his private e-mail address or even by mail.

So it was not surprising that only advertising, spam and newsletter mails had accumulated, although the border between the latter was rather fluid.  
Oikawa almost deleted this mail unread as well, and he couldn't say afterwards what made him open it anyway.  
The subject was "The Moon" and the mail only contained an advertisement for a herbal sleeping pill for sleep problems during full moon and a short poem to accompany it.

_Oh so see_  
_your face_  
_in the years_  
_light_

_Nothing that_  
_without change_  
_attended me_  
_and in the sky_  
_the moon._

Oikawa read the lines twice and a strange feeling of noncommital familiarity spread through him. It was as if he had known these words forever, the rhythm and atmosphere of this work were painfully familiar and yet Oikawa was sure he did not know this poem.  
It was only an ad.  
In the past he had been intensively involved with poetry.  
Why again?  
Oikawa had forgotten.  
It was a long time ago - long before his current job, long before the knee injury that had forced him to end his career as a professional volleyball player.  
Long before he moved here, far away from his hometown.  
Before he had left everything behind in a hurry, so as to never be reminded of it again, to never think of it again.

 _Ah._  
Exactly. There had been tears. Screams.  
Bad words, called into a darkening night, a fallen shelf, books, books all over the floor.  
Books full of poems, lyrical texts, books about volleyball and the universe.  
Books covered in shards of broken glass from the framed picture that had stood on top of the drawer.  
A melee, more tears and a last look back at the moon, full and round, frozen in the damaged photo.  
The moon, still and round, witness of the evening the photo was taken.  
Two men by the sea, their silhouettes intertwined, bathed in silver light.  
The moon, still and motionless, had stood in the sky years later, too.  
An honor guard for the desperate anger of two men who hated each other out of pure love.

Silent tears dripped on the notebook, ran past the toothbrush, which almost looked strange, held in place by cramped jaw muscles, tears, hundreds of kilometers away from back then, decades later, and yet they were of the same kind, hot and desperate, like words, these words that Oikawa would have better told to _him_ instead of to the moon.  
Words that had never reached _him_ , but would have been so urgently needed.

The light of the laptop went out, falling victim to the dying battery.  
The toothbrush was next to the device, with dried traces of toothpaste. Oikawa sat crouched on the chair, introverted, trapped in his head and he cried, without tears, they had dried up a while ago, but his soul continued to cry, hour after hour.  
Tomorrow everything would be over, again.  
He would get up, cover up his red eyes with make-up, meet up with his team and live his life as before, months, years.

But tonight he remembered.  
Tonight the world stopped for a moment.  
And above him shone the moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! <3


End file.
